The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-04-03

A MODERN MIRACLE
BY CHARLES STOKES WAYNE,


Author of "AN APRIL HOAX" THREE LINKS" Etc.
am not likely ever to forget the first time
met Clement Wynkoop Every detail of the
meeting, though it has been Eve years since it
occurred, is still wildly before me, and even
now / seem to hear the brassy clangor Of the
tall. old fashioned clock which stood in the bar
room of the Eagle Hotel at Berryville striking
its ten noisy notes, as together he and entered
tho room that chill November night. winking
and blinking at the sudden change from gloom
TO glare. He was taller than /, and apparently
younger. He did not look to be over thirty
years old. and he was so slightly built as to war
rant one in describing him as thin-but he
was not awkward by any means. and
his thinness seemed to add to, rather
than detract from. certain grace which ap-
Dsared to be natural to him. He was not
handsome man; his cheeks were too hollow, his
cheek bones too high, and his large black eyes
too deeply set for that-and there was over all
m expression as If mental or physical suffering
had put its mark there-but his face gave indi-
cation OF more than ordinary intellectually.
Whom the hotel register was pushed toward him,
he took up pen and in a small, cramped hand
wrote his name. following it with the words
The Times. Directly beneath his signature
placed my own, Philip Holt and added the name
Of the paper then represented, the Tribune.
Until that moment we were total strangers.
Both bound on the same errand, however-the
porting of triple execution-it was not odd that
We should thus meet; but it did seem somewhat
strange TO me that Wynkoop, though told that
the house was packed to the roof, should object
strenuously to sharing with me the only remain
ing room. remember that it took good deal
Of persuasion on the part of the proprietor of
that somewhat ancient hostelry before he would
yield and inch. and that myself had to put in
q word finally and assure him that, as he had
registered first. it was I who would insist on
making n night of it in the streets of the village
II he persisted in his determination not to fra
tsrnize. Then he apoloeized, and said it was
for my sake moro than his own that he had OBJ
ascted. He was a somnambulist, he explained.
and he had feared that he might disturb my rest
By prowling about the room in his sleep.
When at length we were ensconced in our top
story apartment, with its high. post bedstead at
one end, with window bare of any pretense Of
shade or curtain directly over it. wash-stand
at the other. and a couple Of green-painted
chairs between. we naturally fell to chatting.
Each had many odd incidents of journalistic ex
perience to relate and, as matter of course, our
conversation included resume Of the executions
We had witnessed. From these the rather
threadbare question of repentance within the
shadow Of the gallows. whether real or imag
mary, came up At that time l was somewhat
of An agnostic. and was inclined to ridicue the
Idea that murderer who. throughout his life,
had been defying tho moral laws, could. when
brought to face death, wipe out all his past, and
spring at one leap into Abraham's bosom.
"God is alpowerful," said Wynkoop, and he
woke 30 revsrently and with such feeling that
determined to test further his belief.
''If there be God" suggested.
He looked at ne sharply and knew at once
that had touched sensitive chord. His dark
pyes twinkled exci.edly in their deep recesses.
"You doubt Gods exstencep he asked.
~ did not say &c." l replied, but there are
many vino do"
And there are many who make terrible,
YES fatal mistake" he went There is a
Coda God whose power you cannot in tine least
comprehensive same GOD who wrought mir
acles in Galilse and Judea eighteen hundred
years ago. and who is even now doing just as
wondrous things. My dear Mr.. Holt. the day of
miracles is not past"
Twelve months ago." he went on, II was an
tain, not only that there is God, but that there
ID n God more powerful than you can conceive
He was 80 terribly in earnest that to DISPUTE
the question with him would have been mad
ness. merely asked him the reason for this
now fixed belief.
.Ah! you are asking me now what cannot
tell you he said, but know it."
This conversation impressed me more than I
can tell, and more than could then understand;
nor Was the impression less deep that another
ancident of that evening made upon me. Miles
OReillv, an impulsive Irish reporter for the
Herald. who had been in the place for a couple
OF days. burst in upon US while were chat
ting. and. after shaking me vigorously by the
band, he turned to Wynkoop. evidently with the
pame purpose. For a couple of seconds how
ever there was no response on the part of the
Times man. / saw him hesitate about taking
tho proffered hand, and in that period of hesta-
ton conjured up dozen reasons for 1t. Then
saw him take his left hand from his pocket
andreach it out to OReilly. He excused the ac-
ton by saying that he had cut the little finger OF
his right hand and that it was very painful His
right hand was still in his pocket How
strange! thought. Not ten minutes ago had
been looking at that right hand attentively. For
como reason knew not what my eyes had
been drawn to it. All the time it was exposed
and it had been exposed frequently since our
meeting, my gaze had at Intervals been riveted
upon 1t. had noticed that it was very white
unnaturally white it seemed to me-that it was
very thin, and that the nails of the long, taper
ing, bony fingers were lvid. How odd, 1 thought
that did not notice the cut. Had it been there
must surely have observed it.
THAT hand of yours is in hard luck Wyn
koop," O'Reilly replied. Il remember at the
Chicago convention you had boil on it or some
thing How the deuce do you writer
Wynkoop seemed rather nettled at this re-
mark
II manage it," he said, shortly.
It was we'll on to 2 o'clock in the morning be-
fore O'Reilly left us, and after that we were moi
long in getting between the sheets.
How long / had slept do not know awokt
suddenly, with start. l was trem bling from
head to foot with a chill that seemed to threaten
the rending Of soul and body. Upon my breas,
lay something cold Ice, and my heart was
growing numb under its chilling weight Fol
an instant lay quite still trying to gather my
scattered senses. NV memory for the momen,
had deserted me- Where was I? / stretched
my eyes open in effort to prove to nv own
satisfaction that was wide awake Then it al
came back to me with a rush. was at Berry
vile, and a strange man, whom had never seer
before that night was my bedfelow. The room
was so dark that could distinguish nothing bu
with the returning memory came also the sam,
acute sensibility that told mo that it was an lex
hand that lay upon me. l could feel the Ion
bony fingers pressing into my flesh with chill
ing clutch Never in my life had l experienced
q sensation so horrible For another minute;
minute that seemed like an eternty-I lay Their,
unable to move. Then L gathered all my reso
luton and energy and rose upon nv elbow. bu
that lev hand still Crashed the u,usclas of IN g